Precipice
by foolondahill17
Summary: It was the edge.


Title: Precipice

Summary: It was the edge.

Rating: T, for themes of death

Disclaimer: To whomever it may concern, Harry Potter is not mine

* * *

He was insane, utterly out of his mind, honest to goodness crazy. His black hair whipped across his face, got into his eyes and nose and mouth, made it hard to see and to breathe. Sirius was starting to think Prongs had a point. He _was_ insane. But this was _brilliant_.

The cold hard pebbles of rain stung his face like hundreds of sharp sewing needles. The only thing he'd ever felt like it was when he'd been a sixth year in charms class and accidently cast the stinging hex on his own face.

Sirius had never played much Quidditch. He'd never really been that interested. He'd been on a broomstick only a handful of times, mostly in first year flying class and because flying through the hallways of Hogwarts happened to be breaking a school rule.

He should have played more, because this was bloody _brilliant_. He'd never thought spinning in a free fall across several hundred miles of sky could be this exhilarating. It was. It was brilliant. A Broken Broomstick's rock anthem screamed through his ears.

_Yeah, yeah, yeah, screaming on a lion, riding on a dragon's back._

_Yeah, yeah, yeah, fighting with a spider, living 'til I can't get back._

_Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm dying cause I like it. Gonna fly 'til I hit the free fall…. _

Sirius was screaming at the top of his lungs. He could feel his voice scraping his throat hoarse. He could feel the blood pounding through his heart, coursing through his veins. This – this was being alive. This was bloody brilliant.

The bike he straddled beneath his legs was roaring with energy. It shook and buckled beneath him like something alive and untamed. His back was almost lying flush against the seat, so great was the force with which the wind pounded him back. His hands gripped the handlebars like a dying man's last lifeline. This was bloody brilliant.

Around him thunder boomed and lightening cracked the sky. He could feel the electricity, feel it coursing through him like the blood within his veins, charging him. He couldn't imagine anyone having lived to the fullest if they hadn't defied death like _this_.

His shoulders shook. His chest felt as if it was convulsing. His head was going to explode and it was going to be so _bloody brilliant_…. The ground charged up to meet him at an alarming pace. It greeted him with gaping jaws, teeth dripping blood, waiting for its next meal….

Sirius jerked up on the handlebars, threw his whole body forward in a great effort to pull _up_ – the bike sputtered, she _squealed_ in protest but scraped parallel to the ground and soared upward in a mockery of gravity.

Sirius crowed.

* * *

He was insane. His black hair whipped across his face, got into his eyes and mouth, and the force of the air pressing against his chest was making it hard to breathe. He _couldn't_ breathe. He couldn't think. _Gonna fly 'til I hit the free fall_. Somewhere inside his head he was screaming at the top of his lungs. _I'm dying cause I like it._

He wondered if this was what death felt like, this rushing sense like the racing shape of doom. _He is coming and he's dressed in black. He's got a letter and it's for me_…. The ground was rising to meet him, jaws open wide. He wondered if this blankness that seemed to be his mind was what death was like. Empty and void and _nothing_….

He wondered if his heart, which continued to pound against his ribs knew there was no longer any point. It was trying to stall the inevitable. He was already a corpse.

He was insane. He saw the green flashes as if it had been him who'd cast them. He saw their bodies sprawled on the floor. He saw James – _oh gosh, James_ – with his glasses askew. He saw Lily – _Lily, Lily, Lily, Lily_ – with her red hair –

The bike lurched and Sirius pushed it onward. It was the last thing – the last thing he still had command over. _He would not bend to her will_. She was his. He refused to let her buckle and break beneath his grasp. It was the only thing he still had – the only thing as even his sanity left him, slipped between his fingers, sand through an hour glass, water down a drain, the time had run out, his race had reached the end, his journey stayed its course, life ceased to matter….

He fell. He fell. He fell.


End file.
